


= In the Flaking Wallpaper =

by Wabbajackle



Series: Bendiduous the Demon [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine, Bendy and the dark revival
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Beginning is kind of bad?, Bittersweet, Crimes & Criminals, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cynical, Dark, Debt, Demons, Domestic Fluff, Dont you know that wally franks is gOnNa KiLL YoU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Et tu Boris?, Family Fluff, Forbidden Love, Graphic Description, Humor, Idiots in Love, Illegal Activities, Ink Demon(s) (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Inspired by The Yellow Wallpaper, Large updates, Mantling religious characters, Melancholy, Mental Anguish, Missions, Multi, Mystery, Not Canon Compliant, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parallels, Passion project, Possible Character Death, Quest for immortality, References to other fandoms and shows, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Return of some familiar faces, Returning Home, Romantic Fluff, Slight alterations to early 1900's history, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, Sweet, Symbolism, The author is insecure, Thriller, Unresolved Tension, Updates often, Violence, You have to be a saint to actually like Sammy, classic literature references, not edited much, possible smut in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wabbajackle/pseuds/Wabbajackle
Summary: There had to be something between the parallels, in the missing details and the things you couldn't remember.Your past, it was going to catch up with you.
Relationships: Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine) & Reader, Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine)/Reader, Various & reader
Series: Bendiduous the Demon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798642
Comments: 23
Kudos: 28





	1. Into the Market with a Suit and Tie

He was a stunning thing, his filament glass painted skin riveting together thin, distinct ribs, his form sinewy and sleek-- he was fascinating in his metamorphosis from joyous little trickster to this distorted form that you never predicted coming about, though you reclused back into your own mind. How’d you get here? Was he really the same being as that sweet little ball of all pudding and no bones you came to love?

It was asleep one moment, and awake the next, standing just outside of a hollow cylinder, separated by a thick wall of glass.

Observing with surprise, he was still a devil crowned fittingly by two pivoting ends of an ark, but you couldn’t see his piecut eyes under the leaking wound on his forehead. He cast the silhouette of a deep dark moon from inside of his cage. Though even in his exhaustion, the poor thing still thrashed, banging his forehead against the glass until it bled black, seeping down with the rest that had gathered as a puddle by his thin, dripping legs. Some part of you ached, seeing him in this pitiful state. You had to play along, knowing that this was the market, but just looking at him, you felt the urge to reach out and do something. Just what in hell happened to you that you were both here, he barely recognizable, and you in less than a hazey shock?

“So, What’dya say?” The salesman spoke, as if he’d already offered to you the purchase of your poor little friend turned merchandise of the market. This man was letting you buy, and that meant only one thing-- he thought you were you. The old you.

You weren’t even sure you could keep in character anymore, so much had changed since, though now in your disorientation, you very well could have had something to do with that missing time- the you before this rendition. “I’d love to have him. Just bring him to an open cell instead of the tank you’ve got him in- I need to-” You paused. The people of the market were soulless and uncaring, and you were one of them. You couldn’t let him gain any suspicions or else he wouldn’t sell. “..Examine him.”

Of course, it sounded like you were willingly offering yourself as feed, but who was this salesman to deny you? You had a reputation anyways for carelessness and masochism. He already had your money now that you agreed, he noted with a grin. If you got eaten, he could just resell this abomination of a creature for big bucks and get double the pay.

So you sat and waited on the other side of the door. It rose open to a deep dark hall, and his head peeked out, no one else around.

“Bendy!" You rushed out, legs halting in their swinging from the only piece of furniture in the room: An examiner’s table. He stayed there, looming just at the door frame. Without any words coming from him, you continued. “Is it really you?--” He stepped out of the shadows, baring his full body to you, arms raised. Was he- looking to embrace? You flickered your arms up too, a confused flicker of hope, but it shriveled into nothing in just an instant.

You moved by instinct, ink splattering at his reckless slap into the concrete wall. Your heart fluttered, jumping in its cage as you leaned out of the way just in time.

His hot breath puffed clouds in the cold room, his ribcage rising up and down. Even just that little leap took the breath out of him. He must’ve been at it for hours, alone, treated like an animal. How he ended up in the market you didn’t know, but it wasn’t long that he was there, because once he was outside of the studio, you were able to get to him.

However Joey ended up cursing that old building, you didn’t know, but it did something to you, because it felt like a chunk of time was missing from when you did menial work and bickered with the kid, your openness to his existence making you a target for his pranks and outbursts to now with this demon of a thing that’d become of him. Something terrible must’ve happened there, seeing him in front of you in his current state, and he wasn’t happy with you either- for some reason. Your hope was that you could bust him out of here and get to the bottom of things, but for right now, it was a matter of getting him to calm down.

Speaking of, he lifted his head, and his horns folded back. He let out a quickly amplifying growl of a noise. Arm raised in your direction where you stood just a few feet away, he hooked his fingers into a claw motion, as if gripping the air in the place of you.

“Bendy.” He flinched, his arm falling. You took the reaction as positive, since he was listening. However, he did not like your next appeal. “At least let me get you out of here first.”

Something about that statement ticked him off, because his teeth serrated and he lunged again. You tossed your body out of the way, preferring bruises over death. He predicted that though- of course he did- and as if time slowed, you watched his spine curve as he pushed off the wall.

You bounced off the ground with a skid, and he landed over you, his mouth open and ready to clamp down. You threw your hands up, struggling to keep him at a distance. He fought back, trying to dip his face down to mutilate yours.

“Heh-” You huffed, a bit of ink sliding down your face. “You’re a lot heavier-” You grunted as if he weren’t trying to kill you. Squirming your knees, your thought was that trying to use them to help push him away might help, but he caught them in his own legs and his arms, weakened from hours of clawing at glass, quivered.

Your arms too had bent, giving in under his weight. A nasty snarl emanated from his throat, and you pinched your eyelids shut, waiting for his teeth to seek into something.

He was trembling in pain, huffing and heaving. You wiggled your arms out from underneath him, splaying them out on the floor. Now that you had time to take in the sensation of smooth cold beneath you, your body ached where he’d collapsed.

“What did they do to you?” You cupped a hand, struggling for a few moments because your fingers started to shake from using too much strength holding him up. Unresponsive, he still couldn’t even snap his jaw where his face had fallen beside yours, though he stiffened at your touch. “Please, let’s get out of here. I don’t know what’s going on, but something brought me here, and I have a feeling it was to get you out of the market.” You explained, unsure if he’d even understand you, but all you could do was hope.

At the way he’d slumped, no longer twitching or fighting back, you took it as agreement. You couldn’t do much so you just let him lay there. Surely he was malnourished and exhausted, and these people had no care for his well being. If your little shanty of a home was even still there, you’d at least have some fresh ink which for him was like a salve, though there was no promise on unexpired food.

Could you even make it home? If you were here, maybe your car was in the parking lot. Though, things in the market didn't always correspond with the rules of outside, so who was to say your car could even function at this point? 

Well at least you remembered that much, but blackouts were never a good sign. At least remembering the studio and Bendy, you weren't completely wiped. You still remembered very clearly, whatever you were forgetting attracted the good graces of Joey Drew, and he decided he had a job offering for you.

You didn’t remember much though, only that whoever it was you were, was not a good person. Barely a person. Hopefully little Bendiduous never had to know of your previous incarnation, he seemed wary enough. It was a cycle by now, wasn't it? Forgetting and remembering? You thought so, but again, who was to say? 

But for now, game plan. Seemed like busting him out of places was a common theme at this point. You used to sneak him out of the studio, away for the night. He definitely deserved a rest in his old bed, and you could definitely go for one as well. Something told you, however, that he wouldn’t be asking a million questions, or bouncing off the walls now. Here he was, all grown up, and it seemed he’d been neglected for the entirety of it.

It was time to 'get outta here.'

Sounded just like Mr. Franks. Good, least you still had your humor. 


	2. He was a Pleasant Man

“Bendy boy, guess who’s here!” Called the young, always pleasant man that was your boss, Joey Drew. 

At his exclamation, came a frantic scramble over the floorboards and a blurred blob of black that smacked and bounced off the wall. In a flurry of limbs and energetic waving arms he tackled your leg, sending you stumbling back. You were back, finally. His favorite person in the whole entire world. 

Nothing to soften your fall, you sort of just fell back awkwardly, sure to have a new set of bruises from the tough love. All the while he hovered over you, bounciness about him, a wide smile on his face. You smiled back. Your most favorite little devil in the whole entire world. 

When you were around, you were practically inseparable, and Bendy? Bendy couldn’t go a day without you. Did you know that? You were going to. He inhaled with an exaggerated gasp, and the wind that came out of him was deafening. “NEVER TAKE A DAY OFF AGAIN!!” His voice boomed, Mr. Drew covering his ears. The sound probably resonated even to the lower floors with its sheer power. Surprising that the walls didn’t shake. You flinched, putting on a shaky smile along with your boss who was giving the two of you a healthy amount of space, only to save his own skin. 

He looked up to Mr. Drew with that same wide grin, and then back down, seeing nothing wrong with the volume. “Didya have a good day? Didya didya?” He bounced even more, thank god he was light. You nodded, your hair sprawled out on the smooth wooden floor. “Good! Because you’re not allowed to do that ever again!!” A crack in the floorboards ran down your back, one of the planks slightly jutting out and digging into your spine. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, so you cupped your hands, and plucked him off of yourself by the armpits. Wasn’t too hard a feat, but holding on was a different matter when he could literally go limp as liquid. 

He wiggled and squirmed as you sat up, glad you missed the potted plant by a few inches. That would’ve been a nasty welt, if you would have hit it. Aside from that, you saw over his shoulder the curious wolf who’d come to great you. It was Boris, peeking around the corner at all the commotion, and it seemed Alice wasn’t with him today. 

“Hello Boris.” You smiled, and he waved, his greeting brief before going back to wherever he was before. Boris kept quiet and behaved, unlike Bendy, who was often loud and rambunctious, wreaking havoc on your workplace. Some of the workers were wary of the little devil, and you could totally understand why, he was a menace. Emphasis on the loud part. 

Annoyed that you weren’t paying attention to him, he pounded his arms on your chest, demanding attention. You looked up at Mr. Drew, and back down to Bendy, the little devil. Supposed they were both waiting for an explanation, since you didn’t give much warning beforehand. 

“Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday. I was out buying plaster.” Drew nodded, though Bendy scratched his head in confusion. “s’ Quite alright, but I’m with Bendy boy on this one, he threw a bit of a tantrum at your absence.” At his mention, Bendy huffed and crossed his arms while you let him down. 

“Whaddya need plaster for?” He asked, ignoring Mr. Drews comment on his behavior, which you might just scold him for later. Right now however, you tilted your head. Did he forget you were building a house? “For the walls, Bendy. Just got done with the plumbing, though the electric’s still pretty bare bones yet.” You grinned with a secret wink. 

“Oooh.” He nodded, and winked back. Quite honestly, he was looking forward to seeing it. Just the thought made him bounce up and down even more, but he couldn’t say anything, not in front of Joey. Your promise to let him leave the studio had to be kept quiet, if he had any hope of seeing the outside world. He giggled, your own secret mission. 

“So, what needs doing today sir?” You asked, a hand rubbing Bendy’s forehead absentmindedly. It didn’t go over his head though, except for literally. He loved it when you did that, and he leaned forward, the pressure making him weak in the shoulders. 

“Oh- well..” Bendy drowned his talking out, he was more focused on you, watching the way your lips moved as you responded to whatever Joey had been saying. Your hair had been cut since the time you first met, and honestly, he sort of missed the way it used to look. However, the way the strands fell down, framing your face, he could get used to the new look. 

“Yessir.” You affirmed. “Great.” Mr. Drew responded, taking one last look at the toon who was zoning off. He couldn’t be more grateful for your volunteer work, since he didn’t have too much money to pay, and since he’d forgotten how much a hassle Bendy used to be before you came along to take care of him. 

Honestly, you were nothing like the being he knew before, and part of that was mystifying. Being called sir by something like you was enough to make him feel chosen for something. Everything he ever wanted was happening, really, right here, right now. This studio, it was going places. 

With his quiet reflection he left you to it, amusement in his situation. You were alone then, next to a long potted plant just in the lobby. “Want to stay in my office today?” You looked back down at him, watching your boss round the corner. 

He snapped out of it nodded, grabbing the hand that was rubbing his head as you stood to your feet. He walked behind you, his gaze falling to the floor. He had to keep the act up in front of old Joey, but he could be a bit more himself, if it was just you. 

Sure, he was a cartoon devil, but he was alive, just like you and everyone else. You? He didn’t have to explain that to, it seemed you were the only one that ever got what he couldn’t say in words. 

His hand squeezed just a bit. Despite its toonishness, it fit perfectly in your own.

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

You groaned, crumpling up the draft and tossing into the bin put against the corner next to a thin drawer. You didn’t toss it with enough accuracy, instead it hit the rim and fell onto the ground with a shuffling sound. He looked up from where he was daydreaming, picked it up, uncrumpling it. 

He gave it a quick glance over, reading down the written lines. You were having troubles focusing today, and with good reason. Mission impossible was now mission happening, one hundred percent possible, and one hundred percent nerve wracking. Maybe he sort of half blackmailed you into doing it, but part of you just gave in because you agreed it was wrong keeping him cooped up in this old musty building. Not that you wanted him to go around knocking over everyone’s inkwells and ripping up their drafts, but you were also doing this willingly, irrationally enough. 

Your fingertips were tingling from the deathgrip you had on your pen. You really just couldn’t come up with anything under this pressure, could you? 

For clarification, you were only working on one of the comics that would go in the paper, and you easily had already done backups for days like this, but not even a vague skit came to mind today. You weren’t good enough for animation, yours were clunky at best, but you did learn how to come up with basic frames that the others could fix up for you. In the end, you weren’t the official artist behind the comics, but that was mostly because you asked not to be put under the spotlight. Bendy never did understand your reservations, he loved entertaining and being entertained, but if it’d make you uncomfortable, he agreed it’d be better off. Even if he thought you deserved all the recognition in the world.

His cheeks flared grey, reading the script. There drawn in the margin was a little doodle of him, with a note written beneath it. ‘Handsome devil’ written in cursive, along with him in a pinstripe suit holding a fedora. 

He couldn’t have looked more flustered. You glanced over, confused, not connecting his expression with the unfolded paper in his hand. You were preoccupied by other things, but your concentration was nonexistent anyways, so you supposed you could move on from writing and go prep for the coffee run now. 

Mr. Lawrence always asked for a cup, but you stopped at his part of the studio last because usually, he liked to chat for way too long while you had other chores to do. Not that you minded completely, but he could be a little bit of an odd conversationalist at times, and he was really religious, which always made you a little uncomfortable. 

You didn’t know why, but you never really did much like organized religion, especially not now that you’d gotten acquainted with Alice, Bendy, and Boris. They all seemed sweet, and they didn’t exactly fit the stereotypes of angels and demons- and, well, wolf? Everyone was religious to a degree, that was just society, but you wouldn’t openly admit that you didn’t quite follow one. Besides, it was better to just fit in, so instead of being heckled or told you were going to hell, you just nodded along and agreed complacently. 

“Sorry.” You scratched your head, realizing Bendy was talking to you. “What was that?” 

He flinched, noticing the wrinkles under your eyes. You seemed kind of out of it, did you not get any sleep last night? Stupid day off! You always overexerted yourself when you were out because you spent most of your time at the studio, and barely had enough time to do what you had to when you weren’t there. He just wished you didn’t have to sleep, so that you didn’t have to leave the studio, and so that you could stay at work all day and night! Of course, you did more than that at home, but he wasn’t thinking about that. 

He didn’t know if he should say anything, so he just ended up staring, a finger raised. 

You furrowed your brow at him quizzically, but decided maybe it was time to get out of your stiff old chair. It didn’t feel like you’d been sitting in it for too long, except you glanced over the time and saw you were already well into the day. Seems you’d be a little late for the run, hopefully no one minded too much. “Anyways, coffee run?” You asked, your bones popping as you stretched. His worries went unvoiced, and he nodded lightly, trailing behind. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

It was a nightmare, the time Bendy drank coffee. He held the cup in his hands, and in his curiosity, brought it to his mouth. He learned that he loved coffee if it had cream and sugar. He more than loved it actually, he bounced off the walls. 

Your solution? Decaf. You had a special blend of instant coffee that didn’t go through the machine like everyone else’s did, instead you made it by hand, and tasted it to make sure it was sweet enough. He’d start dancing, cup in hand, swishing his little tail around as he hummed in pure delight. It didn’t matter who was watching, or what they were thinking, the coffee run was arguably the best time of the day, and he couldn’t be happier to spend that time with you. Well, except for the end, Bendy never did like the end of it. It was bitter, just like the nasty coffee you were going to deliver. 

He didn’t stick around once you got to Mr. Lawrence. You didn’t know why, but you never questioned him on it, and you knew he went back to your office after, so you weren’t too worried about him. You just figured maybe it was for the same reason as you, that he didn’t like the religious talk, being a cartoon devil afterall. Course whatever problem Bendy had with Mr. Lawrence wasn't your business, but you could see where he was coming from if your theory was at least close. 

“So, what do you think?” He asked, not looking over. The click of the door was routine by now.

“Sounds like it’s coming along well, Mr. Lawrence.” You came in, handing him his paper cup. He took it, finally turning around. He seemed a little preoccupied, maybe you’d be spared the long chat for today. He always insisted you call him Sammy, but you disagreed, feeling it to be disrespectful since you did admire his work regardless of his quirks. 

“Good, good.” He nodded, lips pursed, free hand running through his fine blond hair. Since he wasn’t initiating conversation, you could only guess he was busy. You didn’t want to bother him, and hey, perhaps it was a good thing he didn’t want to chat today. 

Right, well, back to Bendy then. Now that everyone was accounted for, maybe you could get back to scripting. Usually you wrote the script first, before drawing the draft. That was, you could envision what each character was saying, and position them from there. Though sometimes you had the idea for the panel first, and doodled it in the margins. When you weren’t focusing though, you just doodled for the sake of doodling. You were somewhat itching to get back to your chair, and check the time. 

Except, you were stopped in the hall. “Hello ____.” Little Alice’s sweet voice fluttered. You looked up from your feet with a jolt. “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” She brought her hands up, gripping yours, trying to soothe you. You gave a light apologetic smile. “It’s not your fault, Alice. Just a little tense today.” You were impatiently waiting for this day to end, so that finally, you could do what you’d been planning for weeks. Though, while you weren’t expecting to see her today, you supposed a chat wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Might I ask why? Not that you have to say, it’s quite alright if you don’t want to..” She furrowed her thin brows, always very considerate. You liked that about her. “No, it’s okay. I’m just used to Bendy giving me a quick scare, you know?” It wasn’t exactly the truth, though Bendy related, but you couldn’t exactly tell her about the plan either. She nodded, frowning. “Well, he is a devil. I’m sorry he’s been giving you grief, ____.” Grief? He’d show her grief, her and her wolf. 

You waved your free hand, shaking your head. “He doesn’t mean harm, he’s just a little too playful sometimes.” You stuck up for him, and his horn twitched. You were sticking up for him? 

“Right.” Alice chuckled, a hand coming up to cover her mouth shyly. She heard him press up against the wall, but you didn’t seem to notice. “Well anyways, Boris and I are happy to help if you ever need a break, alright?” That angel, he nearly growled. A break? From what, him? You enjoyed his company, that's why you spent the most time with him, why he was your favorite and not her. Actually, the thought inflated his ego a little bit, and he smiled smugly to himself, staring at the yellow wallpaper as you continued to talk.

“Of course Alice, I’m sorry I haven’t been spending as much time with the two of you, but if I don’t watch him, he’ll go and do something bad.” His smile faded. Did you really feel that way? You just hung out with him to be a babysitter? If that was the case, he didn’t need one, he huffed. “But he’s not all bad, either.” You added quietly, and she giggled again. Stupid angel, he knew what she was thinking.

She might’ve been the perfect little angel, but you were right. He wasn’t evil, just a little fun, and even if she refused to look past what he was, at least you could, and again, that stroked his ego a little bit. 

“You’re a saint, _____.” She smiled, before letting go of her hold on your hand. “Aww, shucks, Alice.” Slipped from your mouth, and you blinked. It seemed Bendy was rubbing off on you a little bit, you never said that before. 

She giggled once more, patting your arm a few times before going off wherever she meant to go before. That was a secret cue for him, and he snapped out of his annoyance, realizing his position. 

He scrambled back to your office, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. He watched the door, listening for footsteps, and sure enough, you came in, oblivious to what he was doing just a few moments before. You did notice his chest bobbing up and down however, even though he tried to hide it. 

“You okay, Bendy?” You bent over, hand hovering over his forehead. His smile twitched, since he was a little out of breath. It was faint, but you knew him too well, you spent a lot of time studying him, afterall, trying to picture him from different angles, which was easy given he was right there. 

“Course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” He wasn’t very convincing, but to his advantage, you figured maybe he was just feeling anxious about your little escape plan too. “Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be fine.” 

He nodded, glad that what you thought he was breathing heavy for. “Course it will.” He huffed, looking over at the clock. “D’sat mean it’s time?” He asked, not actually anxious at all. 

“Yeah.” You retracted your hand, moving to grab your bag, and the large jar. It had breathing holes poked in it, not that he really needed to breathe. Wasn’t like you knew that, so he could at least be appreciative you were thinking of him. “It can be.” You answered. Well, he wasn’t going to ask you to stay in this boring old place any longer, he was ready for a new change of pace, as well as place. He was going places, just as Joey Drew told him he would. To that, he grinned. 

You placed the jar on the floor, the glass clinking gently. You shut the door just in case anyone decided to pass, but for the most part, everyone was just busy. Maybe Norman might pass, he did every once in a blue moon, but for the most part, you were the one that spent the most time in the halls. 

He put his foot in the mouth of it, the ridges hugging up on his ankle. Then, the most important part of the plan, he squeezed himself inside. It was still strange to watch from your perspective, the way he vanished like a rabbit in a tophat, but it went just as planned, and now, it was on. 

“Ready?” You asked, and he bubbled out a mucky “Yep.” Here goes nothing. 

You screwed the lid on, and picked it up, the weight a little unexpected as he sloshed around inside of it. With two hands, you gently put him in the bag, and plucked it off the ground, hanging it over your shoulder. He looked around, for the most part it was pitch black, but he could still see you through the slit looking around semi-nervously. He hoped no one happened to see you, both for your nerves and your secrecy. 

You passed by the other animators’ offices, some of them already empty. It seemed people already started leaving for the day. Usually you were one of the last to leave, but you could easily make up some excuse about needing more time for your house project, now that you’d gotten to the delicate stuff. 

Actually, the hustle out the door wasn’t as terrible as you thought, but still, heart thumping, you had to be prepared for the worst.

Or not? You thought, as you shut the door behind you. Here you were, finally, your feet crunching over the padded snow. You were sure he’d love it, once you could go play in it, and since the sun was starting to set, it seemed he was going to get to see the stars pretty soon too. 

Nothing ever went this easy. You still kept on edge, knowing that. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

“Alright, you can come out now. No one’s ever on the back roads.” You unscrewed the lid, eyes still on the road. You’d been talking to him the entire time, while the bag slid around on the floor of your car, the rumbling a somewhat funny feeling. It made him jiggle, and it made a nice humming noise too, nothing like the cars he remembered which were noisy and clunky. This one rode smooth, and he could only guess the roads weren’t brick or dirt either. How exciting! 

“Good golly it was tight in there!” He reformed in your back seat, gloved hands pressing against the glass. Looking back at him through the mirror, you pressed a button to crack his window, amused at his little jolt. The cool night air swished and hit his forehead and he stuck his face forward, wiggling one hand through the crack just to feel it. Since it was dark, he didn’t get to experience the full colors in the light of day, but there was something else he could see.

“Did you look up yet?” You asked, tapping the steering wheel, humming in your head. Your worries were whittled by the pure look of awe he had. Here you were, the deed done. His head swayed with the acceleration and deceleration of the car, and it was all very real, him, yourself, the road, the trees towering both sides of the road. 

“..Oh.” His voice came out smoother than butter. “Oh..” He echoed, his hand sliding down. In his dark silhouette where the light from your high beams didn’t touch, he could see millions of stars streaking the sky. 

You inhaled a pleasant breath of fresh cold air, amused by the literal stars in his eyes. 

It’d be only a few more minutes, but to Bendy? Time could pause and he’d be grateful, in this moment which must’ve been his favorite in the whole wide world. So this, this was freedom. 

When you pulled into the driveway, he was slumped, out cold against the door. Careful in opening it, he opened his eyes tiredly, only to blink when you stuffed him into your warm arms, skin practically searing against his own. 

“Are we home?” Something about the innocent way he said it made you just melt, metaphorically. Not as literally as he could. 

“Yeah.” You locked up the car, and made your way in. First thing you did was kick off your shoes, and second was beeline to your bedroom, gently plopping him down on your mattress. You felt grimy just from the day, so you planned on showering, and showing him around in the morning. 

It wasn’t like he minded. He leaned in when the bed shifted, and found the freshly thickened air from the bathroom, your skin that had steam rolling off of it, to be blissful. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

So went that first night, the one he woke in the arms he was supposed to wake in every morning, with the sheets he wanted to stay under for the rest of his life. With it went the thought of ever returning to that awful studio, no, he’d rather just drop everything and live here, with you. If you could build this, you could make anything, you could do anything. 

You could give him anything he asked for. If anything, given enough time, he could convince you to let him out of that horrible building for good. 

You sat up, a strand of hair in your mouth. His eyes traveled down. Your shirt was ridden up, and you had little care to fix it. His eyes flicked, once, then twice, and lulled up at you, who seemed really clueless. He couldn’t explain the thought he had, bit it was brief, the image of his teeth sunk into your flesh, his inky finger tracing the image of his bowtie over the part he wasn’t running his tongue over, writing a possessive signature. 

He flushed. Sometimes you could really bring out the worst of him, couldn’t you? It felt a little wrong, even for him. 

You blinked, once, then twice, oblivious to his unwavering attentive stare on your just awoken self. You felt good, too good, and mornings were for the aches and pains of yesterday, plus the days before. That alone was enough to remind you that something was different about this day already.

That little something was the flickering tail you hadn’t registered, until there was a hand on your wrist, drawing a line up, and the soft round chest, pressing itself to your back. He tried so hard to be good for you all the time, but it was hard to keep up the innocent act against his true nature. He was a demon, a devil, and one of these days you were going to find that out, at this rate. 

“Gooood morning!” He spoke with some extra sprinkled pizazz, his throat rumbling against your shoulder blade, a wandering hand brought to your bare stomach. He knew full well what he was doing, though you thought otherwise embarrassedly. You stiffened, hunching forward, trying to hide your exposed skin from his tickling fingertips. 

“Be-endy. Don’t!” Your spine rubbed against him, hands shooting out to grab his. You knew he meant no harm (He did, but you were none the wiser.) but you were uncomfortable being touched like that. 

He released on command, giving you time to find your bearings, though that’d hardly be the last time that would be happening if he could do anything about it.

Sheesh, he realized, listening to himself. Get a load of himself. Again, it was a little wrong, even if it felt kind of nice, being able to.. Play around. 

You yawned, stretching. You pulled your shirt down, much to his disappointment, but found a new distraction in your frazzled bedhead. So many firsts for him were happening since his arrival, and he mentally stashed this somewhat comical look of yours into his memory. 

“House tour, breakfast. Studio.” You groaned out, rubbing your face. He agreed with the first two, but could work out the last later. “In that order. That means right now.” You convinced yourself, sliding to the edge of the bed. His palm patted the warm divot in the sheets where you’d just been, fiddling the cotton between his fingers. 

He stood, and was pleasantly surprised by your hand taking his. He wasn’t going to complain. 

It was funny to him, the memory of just a year ago. A lot had changed since then. You, for one, became a normalcy in his small world, and wasn’t so mean to you anymore. He still felt a little bad for that one, all of the torn sheets of paper and ink stains from when he drew on your stuff he couldn’t take back, but you half-deserved it at the time. Why? 

You used to be a real piece of work! Never smiling, always distant, uninterested in him. It ticked him off! But that trait was long since gone, now he could read you like a page of script. Easily. No one knew you better than him, and that he prided himself in. 

“Kitchen.” Said you, stopping there first, it wasn’t like it was far away. Obviously it needed some breaking into, everything was much too new and shiny. He had time to change that, but he looked at the pack of magnets on the counter, presumably for the fridge. He opened the cupboards, happy to see different cans of soups and vegetables stacked up in rows. The window above the sink needed curtains, and the walls could use some painting, otherwise, it was a likeable room. Spacious as well, that he especially liked. 

“You’ve been in my bedroom.” You turned back around, headed into the hallway again. “But aside from the bathroom, there’s another room you should see.” There was also the upstairs and basement, but those didn’t have anything in them yet. You planned an office, living room, and terrace, but for now your main focus was on the necessities. You had plans for a fair bit of landscaping too, surrounded by a thick wall of trees on both sides, your neighbors’ houses far from yours since the area was more rural. That meant you wouldn’t have to worry if he was in the backyard, so long as he was keeping his tone down and doing things within reason. 

“Wassit for?” He asked curiously, eyes refocusing on your locked hands. At this point he felt so touch starved he could just pounce. Admittedly he required a lot of it, and even then, he still couldn’t get enough. 

“It’s special, take a look for yourself, I’m sure you’ll like it.” You grinned, holding the door open for him. 

“What’s so special about it? It’s empty.” His smile faltered as he shot you a look of confusion, though you grinned at him. “Well, yea, but that’s because you haven’t told me what you want me to put in it yet.” You settled for leaning against the frame as he took a few steps in, his mouth opening. 

“Why’dya need me to do that?” He spun around, his shoes squeaking on the plain concrete floor. 

“Because it’s your room?” You asked as if it weren’t obvious. He gasped, and looked around. “Really? Window and all?!” He bounced around, suddenly envisioning all the different things that could go in here. Posters! Cut-outs! Ooh! A bed, even! He flushed then, thinking of your sleeping face as morning light filtered in, that could go places it didn’t need to go right now. Golly, his very own window. He knew already, this place would be paradise. 

“Window and all.” You crooked your head, arms crossed. “Oh, and one more thing. I thought you might like something to do while you’re here.” You opened the closet that he hadn’t noticed, and propped against the wall were a few things waiting for him. He rushed forward, not really shoving you, but more enthusiastically pushing you a bit too rough. A pack of crayons, some pencils, a notepad, and the centerpiece of your very thoughtful gift, a long keyboard. He looked up at you, tugging his bow, but his sparkly eyes went wider than wide, his smile wrinkling in a way you’d never seen before. 

You’d never elicited a look that intense from anyone, so seeing it bewildered you. Your smile upturned nervously, but a hand of his unclasped his bowtie to grab your shirt instead, bunching the fabric in his fist. 

“Thanks.” Was all he got out. You might not have seen it the same way, but this was literally the best thing that’d ever happened to him in the history of happening to him. It felt like nothing was wrong with the world when you were around, he thought as he clasped your shirt tighter. 

He never wanted it to end. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He woke up in the passenger seat, your hand on the shift just next to his. His head had slumped against the window, his legs bent, hitting the glove compartment. This old car of yours seemed to have gotten smaller, and in that same respect, so did you.

Your eyes stayed focused on the road, pupils thin, your body stiff. He wondered if it were him that gave you such a delightful expression. He thought then, how one hand out of place, and you could be snuffed out like a light. Problem was, that’d bring him down too, so he’d let you bring him back to your house, that cursed place, and then he’d take it as his own. He could survive a crash, but he wouldn’t survive any fire or explosions. 

You glanced over at him, unaware that he was awake. Seeing him slumped, how exhausted he was, you frowned. Your hand seemed a bit misshapen and purple was fading to green and black all the way up your arm, but he didn’t remember what had happened to make it that way, nor did he remember how he’d gotten in here. 

If you were normal, you would have been quaking in your seat at the threat of his presence. Instead, you quietly looked him up and down. If he saw right, you seemed to pause at his ribcage, a long stare dangerously away from the road. It glistened in the light of your high beams through the light fog, the slim ridges seemingly what had your attention. 

“Dammit.” You whispered, not seeing the way his horn flicked back. You gripped the steering wheel, a tired lull in your eyes. “I’m really sick, this is Bendy.” You deflated, your eyes flickering back and forth. 

Yes it was Bendy, and nice to know. Really, he wouldn’t have guessed after twenty years of abandonment you’d be a bit less perfect than he remembered. There were a few confusing things about that though. One, you looked as if you hadn’t aged a day, and last he checked, that’s not how humans worked, two, you said something about being brought by something for his rescue. He didn’t really catch all the details, too tired to listen, or kill you, like he’d intended. 

Really. You brought out the worst in him. Always had, when you were there, making him think you actually cared for him. Here you were, decades later. Happy escape, it seemed, maybe you’d vanish again too. That admittedly left him feeling a bit bitter, some part of him twisting with anger. 

“Joey..” That peaked his interest, his fist trembling. He could contain himself if it meant his own self preservation, but that name threaded over thin waters. “What did you do to us?” He froze at your words. Us? There was no us in this, you looked perfectly fine. Perfectly… 

Actually? Now that was something he needed clarification on. He was planning on ambushing you the moment the car stopped, but really he’d be a little dissatisfied with that ending. It was rushed, it came without answers. You at least owed him that, before he could go paying his own debt to you- the horrific death you certainly deserved. 

He brought his gaze up, able to see a sliver of grey. It seemed there were no stars tonight.

He could show you now. He would. You’d learn just the demon he could be. It would be in a perfect moment, you cornered, perhaps pinned to a wall, or shoved onto the floor. Flashes of different mutilated versions of yourself graced his imagination, though once again, his thoughts tainted of that name. Some said in begging, begging for your life, some a bit more- out of context. 

Bendy the Dancing Demon. Really Bendiduous, courtesy of your lies, the terror that would be worse than any nightmare you ever had before.


	3. So They Put it on TV!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has mentions of trauma and graphic violence.

He stayed limp, listening closely. The wound he noticed earlier likely wasn’t the only one if the whimpers told him anything, your discomfort audible as you hooked your arms under his shoulders, trying to carry him. The longer he pretended to be out of it, the more you’d have to suffer- which was arguably better than his original plan. You didn’t see it, there was no way you could at that angle, but the corners of his smile lifted, the muscles pinching in his face to the point that if he smiled any wider, he might just tear his cheeks. 

Still, you did endure more than he was expecting you to be able to, the bones protruding from his spine digging into your arms, likely irritating any bruises he supposed might be there. You managed to slide him out of the seat, and his thinner disposition worked in your favor, though he was definitely still too heavy to carry comfortably. He weighed probably more than double of what you were used to. 

He couldn’t see the house since he was facing the other way, his body held up like some twisted version of a stuffed animal you’d win at the fair, but he could feel the colossal gaps in the driveway, the ones his legs dragged over, leaving a steady trail of black. He didn’t have the best vision in the dark, considering the thin web of black ink stuck over his eyes, but he could make out the shapes of spindly, aggravated branches that had grown out from years of not being pruned. He could only guess the house looked similar to the broken up concrete with tree roots poking out of it- it was probably in disrepair. 

“I can’t believe it, I just built this house.” Oh, that was rich. Unless the old one was torn down and rebuilt, which he highly doubted, this house was the same one built all those years ago, the one he vividly remembered living in, and remembered getting into loads of trouble over. There was no way this house was just built, though it seemed Joey’s threats to destroy the place never actually came to fruition. That… made him a twinge angry.

He may have expected it, but you hadn’t, and it felt horrible, seeing how something you worked so hard on and loved so tenderly had become so much more broken, because you weren’t there to care for it. The door was once silent, but now the hinges were rusted and it let out a gut wrenching screech. The inside smelled of dust and, as you passed through the kitchen, he caught the sight of crumbs and dead ants left on the counter. The lights were no longer bright and luminescent, instead they flickered a dirty old copper, as if the glass itself had been stained and the bulbs were about to go. It was a miracle the power still worked, with the state the place was left in. 

You trudged on past the fridge, which seemed to have a stain from something that had leaked out and evaporated, turning into a culture of crusted mold splotches, dotting the ground with gross clusters of thin hairs. Some of his drawings had littered the floor, others still stayed up, the paper yellow and aged. He could still make a few of them out, and “For ____.” written on the ones that had flipped over, with little hearts and doodles stained by whatever the substance was that had spilled over them and splotched with rot. No wonder the place smelled, at least the ink in the studio never went sour, though it had a bit of a pest problem. 

This place was once his home, but he denied it any recognition as home now. He was a monster, he had no home. 

This place was just another place to rot, nothing more, but that didn’t change the fact that he was onced so illusioned he thought he belonged here. He tried to return a few times despite not knowing how he could ever make it without getting lost or caught, desperately clawing at the door of the studio, crying and pleading, even praying to whatever god there was that you’d come back and bring him home. It took him a while to just stop caring, to forget any hope he had that you were simply.. taking a long day off which had turned into months, that whenever that door swung open, one of those times, it was going to be you, oh so sorry for leaving him and promising to never do it again. 

He started to finally see things for what they were, instead of a dumb romanticized toon, he was a toon, and a child too, but he was tortured all for the sake of others’ entertainment. Joey did that to him, Henry did that to him. You, you wrote those comics, while they weren’t as hard on him, you still controlled him. You still made his memories. You were just as bad. 

He went into a deep, dark depression when he finally realized that nothing he ever did before was of his own free will. He had no doubt in his mind it was real, but he was never going to want to go back, not where he was just another scripted character meant to be childish and dumb. That’s what you all made of him, everyone in that studio, regardless if they picked up a pen, they supported that torture, they contributed to his prison of a world both in this reality and that one. 

That was the thing about your world. It was unscripted, and that meant he was as well, the moment Joey decided to pull him out of the pages in order to become just some theme park mascot, and slave to his productions, live-action, and whatever else he planned. What was worse? He wanted to clone him, have multiple Bendy’s. What would that make him? He was the real deal, and that was proven by the fact that old coot could never make another one of him. 

He had a soul, it just wasn’t a human one. Had, did not mean currently possessed. He was sure shriveled up and died long, long ago. If anything, he was glad he didn’t have such a thing, they were grimy, inherently bad, they shouldn’tve existed. Humans were stupid and called them hearts, but hearts did little more than pump blood. That he learned hands on. 

Back when he did still actually care, when it ached more than any plank to the forehead, or any tumble he took, Joey tried to placate him with anything- drugs, threats, pain, but his tantrums lasted until he felt dead enough inside and screamed his nonexistent lungs out enough that he couldn’t even croak. That was his first real change from the script you’d all written for him. Once he was muted, Joey stopped trying to get rid of him because he was little more than a corpse by then, silent and unmoving, trembling on the floor of your office for hours, the one he trashed and nearly disemboweled Norman over if it weren’t for Boris who restrained him, that filthy piece of shit janitor was trying to empty it out at the order of that schmuck. 

Even now, he only felt numb, like there was an empty cavity where his soul should have sat. At least he could feel amusement, if not bitter cynical entertainment in your pain. You would hurt like he did, and you would die, just as he had. 

He let you struggle to put him in the bed, suddenly surrounded by his old shelves and posters. His lamp was crooked and the ventilation seemed hardly present, but still, even though you collapsed next to him, panting in excruciating pain, you still cupped a hand over his face, and while your other hand could barely pinch its fingers together, you still pulled the duvet over him. 

“There’s probably still ink in the closet. I should leave it out, in case you wake up and need it.” You spoke to him, your sweet care long overdue. It was sickening, almost offensive after all you put him through. 

You pulled away, tripping over his old keyboard. It was still at the foot of his bed, though you nearly collapsed onto the ground, spinning. You did as you said you would, sloppily making your way over to grab a few jars while shakily pulling the door to the closet open, though your arms trembled, the tendons in them all shot. 

You jumped, and almost dropped one on the floor when you turned around, him sitting up and staring at you, all without a sound. Freezing, you shut your eyes, everything blurring as your legs buckled. He was suddenly right in front of you, and held you up roughly by the neck as the ink jars came crashing onto the floor with deep thuds. 

You sputtered, not even able to bring your hands up to try and claw his hand off. He shoved you into the wall, a picture frame falling and splaying shards of glass all over the carpet that covered the floor. 

He was trembling. It took everything he had to not squeeze, though his instinct was screaming at him to pop your head clean off. His hand just moved against his will. He’d spent so many years dismembering anything that moved that now it was muscle memory, an action done without conscience. You would DIE. His own inner voice echoed and distorted. DIE. DIE. WHY DIDN’T HE JUST DIE?

Did you feel sorry? He sure hoped you did, if not, he’d keep you alive by just a thread so you could feel how sorry you should be. He deserved that! You had to give him what he NEEDED! He could feel himself coming apart, a fresh new coat of ink bled to layer over his eyes and obscure any amount of foresight he had, left disregarded. He wanted this. He was SORRY. SORRY. SORRY. SORRY. SORRY!!!!

His hand was rapidly tracing the letters out over your back, until it was just a blot of ink from their overlap. You tried to say something, but could only gurgle out a strangled noise. He lifted you from against the wall and dangled you up like a ragdoll, tossing your limp body carelessly onto the mattress. You didn’t stiffen up, and instead bounced off the side, and then he heard it, the way something snapped, though this time it wasn’t imagined. 

It was done. Your neck was snapped in a way it shouldn’t bend. Your fingers were spasming, your brain sending whatever broken signals it could to make your hands and face twitch like a squashed centipede. At that point, it was as good as dead. 

You were dead. 

He didn’t know what overcame him. He never felt anything close to remorse. Not even after he ate the innards of any creature he could get his hands on, his forearm stuffed up to the elbow in still warm guts that he loved to pull out and shove in his mouth. He barely had any cognizance anymore, barely lucid, barely awake. 

This however, seeing your body sprawled out on the floor, made him scream, even if not a sound came out. He clawed at his face, his throat, his horns and his stomach. He opened his mouth as wide as it could go, his teeth dripping with the taste of ink that pooled and spilled out of his mouth. He wanted to mangle himself, he wanted his life to end at the snap of his neck, but instead it was you. You had to go and be fragile, didn’t you? You had to go and be easy to break. He’d do anything to be breakable like you were, but you couldn’t even do that for him could you? Useless. Useless parasites. 

The room was dead silent, but the voices in his head were raging. If he had a heart, it would be roaring in his ears. He stayed in place, bleeding out black, unable to feel himself getting ripped apart, hardly able to feel anything other than a manic hunger as his chest rose and fell in soundless shrieks that had warped and distorted into disgusting heaves of laughter. This wasn’t the loop. He couldn’t undo this. Henry couldn’t undo this. 

Joey’s fault. JOEY’S FAULT. Couldn’t time just go back? Couldn’t he just go back to mutilating anything that walked, since after the end, it would all just happen again? He could destroy them in any way he wished. He could do that to you! Yes, he had his fun with Henry, but you? Where was his satisfactory revenge? Joey took that from him. It was ALL. JOEY’S. FAULT!

Now there was no hope for closure. He wanted closure, didn’t he? He wanted to hear the words from you in person, he wanted you to tell him why you left him, where you went, and he just ruined his chances. 

JOEY’S FAULT.

He wanted it to be like he fantasized. The begs, the sweet pitiful “I’m sorry” which would do well to rile him up, to make him feel desperate, sloppy, hungry, but he crushed your windpipe before you could squawk any of it out to him.He wanted to do it over and over again, until you just gave up, cracked, lying on the floor and waiting for him to crawl through the boards. Until he popped out, finally free from the machine, and held his hand out like he did, without you even flinching. He wanted you in the place of Henry. He would have rather had it been you all along, but no. He was still waiting! Even Henry came back! But you? No. You were never coming back! 

JOEY’S FAULT. 

He stopped. He stared at your ribcage, searching for any sign of that shallow rise and fall. One last night, that’s all he would have, one last time to wake up next to you, even if your soul had left your body and you were no longer the warm that he tried to cling onto. 

He picked up your broken body, surely most of your bones had splintered, if the noise was any indicator. Holding it up, the moment he realized this would be the last heat your body ever produced, he reset everything mostly in place, and buried your head in his chest. He’d figure out what to do in the morning. By then, he probably wouldn’t care anymore. The last shred of care he had would be dead by the red stains of sunrise over your splattered pool of blood, and then he would be alright to go from there. 

He was going to find Joey, and make him pay. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’  
…

“Wow. You wrote that?” You asked as soon as he hit that final note, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Well yeah. I may be a devil but’m well acquainted with the ivory keys!” He grinned, rubbing the back of his head and pushing the keyboard out of the way. “It’s the weekend! Can we pleeease stay home?” He begged, knowing he might just get his way. 

You rested your cheek on your fist. “Bendy, you know I don’t take days off.” Well, as a volunteer they weren’t exactly days off, but you were there full days, seven days a week. You were punctual about it too, sometimes earlier than everyone else. 

“I know! But if I’m not there to throw a fuss, Joey will hardly miss ya!” He said that without skipping a beat. He didn’t mean it to be insulting, so you didn’t really take it to heart. A few more whined out ‘pleeeeaase’s later, and you sighed. “..Alright. Fine.” His eyes went wide. That easily? He thought he was gonna have to knock some things over first. 

“YES!!” He threw his fists in the air, tackling you. Caught off guard, you were unable to catch yourself, and the both of you were sent backward off the edge, and onto the cold concrete floor. You hadn’t yet put in any carpets, mostly because you were debating whether or not you should, since it was hard to clean ink out of any kind of fiber. Take it from Boris, he was made of the stuff, and yet it still matted if it wasn’t cleaned up quick enough. That’s why you bought him dark sheets for his bed, so that any sort of accident wouldn’t be highly noticeable. He couldn’t help it that sometimes ink dripped from his body when he was too excited, even if for the most part he had it under wraps, but you didn’t want him to feel bad about it. 

You grunted, your sleeves rising up just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of the dark purple splotches curling up your wrist. He frowned. Last he checked, human skin wasn’t purple. Maybe ink stains? Though those were usually greyish, not tinted any color. 

…

...He knew now, what they were. He was lost in that memory, for a moment, in the sound of the machine clicking on. The batteries were definitely close to empty on juice, and the speakers crackled from whatever had got in and rusted the wires, but he clicked a few buttons on top, and switched the generic piano sound into a soft, low ping, one that had a nice echoey reverb. He didn’t know what bruises were doing on you, but you’d been littered with them, just like now, for as long as he could remember. 

His fingers played meticulously on loop, the music box sounding noted wavering in the air, bouncing off the empty walls. You told him you liked the way he played, though for some reason, he found himself getting stage fright. That wasn’t good, as a performer. He cringed every time he accidentally touched a wrong key, and only ever hummed, not ever singing the lyrics when you were present. Of course you probably caught snippets of them when he’d play alone in his room, maybe enough to piece the message together. 

He couldn’t hum now, but still, he tried. Only wheezes of air came out, like a broken accordion. He was hunched over your body, your spine pressed into his chest and his arms around your torso, the keyboard sat snuggly in your lap. He was bigger than you now, so when he pressed himself against you from behind, he didn’t have to tilt his head up. He could see over your shoulder with no effort, his smiling teeth pressed into your neck. Though he couldn’t hum, his chest still rumbled.

Suddenly, he felt his anger rise again but it meant nothing. You weren’t reacting to him at all, you just sat limply, not squirming or trying to get him to let go like you would because you were squeamish. He stopped playing, a cautious hand fanned out for his pointed fingers to stretch. 

He laid down next to you, his gloved hand shoving the keyboard away, letting it crash onto the floor. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

You jolted up, fists full of silk. ‘Ah.’ You thought. ‘Just a dream.’ You looked around at the walls, though stopped at the hand running up your stomach. 

You half-expected it to be the tiny toon, thinking maybe you fell asleep listening to him play again, but instead you shuddered, your clothes and skin stained in ink from the night before, a reminder that no, that really happened, you really did come back to your once beautiful house that was now trashed, and you really did drag him in here- though thankfully your hand reset itself after night and you’d only be left with the bruises. But just as they had been however long ago it was now, mornings were for the aches and pains of the day before, and boy were you sore all over. You probably fell asleep after dragging him in here. 

What was he even doing in that market? What was even the deal with it, again? Unfortunately you didn’t remember much of anything, you didn’t even know how you managed to get him out. Even more unfortunately, your memory was really fuzzy. You didn’t even remember how you got here, the rest of it just a haze. 

Though your thoughts went to Alice and Boris. If Bendy was there… hopefully they weren’t. For now, until you could make some sense of what was going on, you’d have to accept this small victory, if you could call it that. Without a game plan, you’d be better off selling yourself to the market than trying to break them out, and the market was so giant that it might take days of searching and hoping that no one else wanted to buy a pair of ink creatures that you really would need to flesh out a plan first. Besides, the passageway there was only one way, and once you were out, you weren’t getting back in. Not unless you could remember how, and right now, you were drawing blanks. 

Well, he didn’t maul you in your sleep. Instead, his mouth was drooping slightly, into a frown. Any wrong move and you might startle him, which probably wouldn’t go over well. He held you in his arms so that at least meant he woke up at some point and noticed that you were there, so if he was still hostile, you would’ve known by now. 

You could now get a good look at him from up close. The sludge from banging his head on that glass was still there, covering his eyes, but in the light of day, it was even worse than before. You held out a hand, trying to rub it off, but it was pretty sticky. To get it off you’d have to apply more force and maybe get a cloth, so until he was awake and aware of it, cleaning the wound would just have to wait. You didn’t want to hurt him in his sleep, especially not while he was possibly still weary of you. 

He really.. changed. It felt like it literally happened in the blink of an eye, that he went from a soft round ball of jello to all muscles and bones, tall and lanky, and, honestly? You didn’t want to say it, but he was a little scary, now that you’d gotten over the initial shock. He looked really menacing, and he did attack you, so you knew he was capable of it. Except now he was well rested, so whatever attempts he made, they’d probably be much harder to fight off. You could only hope he wasn’t going to try again. 

You contemplated getting up. You didn’t even want to think about cleaning up the kitchen, if you remembered correctly, it was absolutely horrid, and that was without close examination. Still, you felt a little bad not having anything for either of you to eat. He never really needed to, but he still liked to, even if you didn’t exactly figure out how it worked. He probably needed some comfort by now, and you felt like you did too. You could go for a warm breakfast, or even some cereal, so long as it was sugary. That little trait of his rubbed off on you too. Not only did you get him addicted to instant coffee, but his tendency to add ungodly amounts of sugar to everything transferred over to you a bit, though definitely not as bad as he ever was. 

You were going to have to get cleaned up, hopefully the water still worked and the bathtub faucet still turned on. That, and you’d have to go digging around for money, if you wanted to get groceries. Your car was still intact because it was parked at the market, but the same did not go for your house. You never needed a job before, but that was when you remembered where you were getting your money from, and since you had enough to build a house and buy whatever you wanted while still only spending your time working at the studio without pay, you were definitely living comfortably before. Maybe there was something lying around that might serve as a clue, or jog your memory. It would be worth the search, if that was the case. 

That was another problem however. You couldn’t just leave without telling him. Hopefully he’d stay put, for his own safety and your own comfort, but it would be unfair if he woke up and searched for you, only to find the house in the mess that it was. You could easily see him getting the wrong idea. 

Well, you could worry about it later. He had you wrapped by the waist, if you wanted out, you were going to have to wait. He’d looked a little mangled when you first got a look at him, but aside from that, he seemed to be doing better, less dripping and more solid. With that, he wasn’t as disproportionate as you first thought, only that his bow was a little crooked and one hand was missing a glove. 

He used to have round, stubby little fingers, but now they were slim, and had a fascinating curvature. With the length of his nails, it looked like he had talons, and the digits of his fingers were fantastically sculpted. 

He grew out of his toonishness, and now looked hyperrealistic in a way that would take some getting used to. Little Bendiduous was hardly so little anymore. Now? Granted time had passed, he could have very well been as old as you. 

You remembered the big reveal, though the comics weren’t exactly one-hundred percent canonical. It was the strip a detective revealed Bendy as a suspect in the case of a stolen diamond. It was really an excuse to put him in a pinstripe suit and tie on your behalf, as well as just doll him up and have him sing on stage at a casino, but Bendy went wild when he read over your draft and the shot panned to the file in the detectives hand, his full first name written on the tab, though his last name was out of frame. 

Bendiduous, as it was revealed, was a hit with many of the fans. It sounded a little demonish, you supposed, right on the money, but it came from a good place. You remembered a critical exposé in the paper written by some religious reporter already against the theme of Bendy being a devil, but even the negative attention more than tripled the reads, and plenty more loved the name. 

Bendiduous. Truthfully you got the idea from two words: splendid and mellifluous, a small hint to Bendy’s hidden musical talents, which actually got its own episode when Joey and Sammy noticed just how well the series of strips did. That was maybe the first time part of the comic got put into the actual show, after all of the fanmail begging to see it animated. The animators did fantastic too, it was one of your favorite episodes by far, though you got mad when they slipped your initials in as an easter egg, having explicitly stated you didn’t want any credit. 

Joey waved it off, and handed you a wad of money, against your protest. Mr. Lawrence did the most important work, you argued, he ended up making one of the best singles you’d ever heard for the stage scene since the episode was half a musical, and the studio needed to keep the money for the bills, but Joey shut you up by threatening to stick the toons on you. 

Little did he know you gave the money right to Bendy, handed him some magazines, and told him to pick out whatever he wanted, your treat. 

You smiled, your hand running along his horn as his chest rose and fell underneath the covers. You were initially struggling with that one, you remembered. It was just after you took him home and he started singing in his room, thinking you weren’t listening, that you were sparked with inspiration, but that comic had actually just started off with a discarded doodle, one he kept, the one you got rid of the day of your ‘secret mission’ to get him out of the studio. 

You still had the VHS tape, if the TV was still working. You’d have to find it, and the rewinder, but maybe the two of you could watch it again. You then sighed contently at the memory of purchasing it in one of the stores- they were expensive, but all the more worth it. He was a great singer, that you knew, if only Joey ever put more emphasis on that. Bless Mr. Lawrences musical talents too. 

You then thought about it. He was the size of a grown adult now, you could easily put him in a suit. Oh. You shook the thought away after briefly imagining his hands finding the buttons of a grey vest, his collar loose, and a white glove being pulled off slowly by his teeth. No! Honestly, you had the mind of a.. Well, -sensitive- teen. You supposed you weren’t a teen too long ago, but dammit! Bendy? He didn’t need to be subject to your wandering thoughts just because of his physique, he was innocent and pure! At least he was last you remembered, he probably still was despite his change in physical form! 

You wanted to get up, but you really didn’t want to wake him, especially not knowing when the last time he’d been able to sleep comfortably was. You could already tell that time was missing, but well, you didn’t exactly know how much. Maybe Mr. Drew was around somewhere? He’d known you before the accident too, said you were old friends before offering to show you around. Quite honestly the person you were before haunted you every day, brought about questions, made you frustrated when you didn’t have the answers to things, but Mr. Drew was always really reassuring that you’d remember over time, and that you were still his old friend and should address him by first name. You disagreed out of respect, but he didn’t ever seem to mind when you slipped up, instead grinning ear to ear. 

You could only hope that whatever had happened, everyone was okay. In the car, driving Bendy back home, you said something you didn’t mean, but it just slipped from your mouth. Of course this wasn’t Mr. Drew’s fault, he was a nice man, and whatever was going on probably had a really good reason behind it. 

However, that didn’t change that you ended up in the market. If your old self was caught up in all this, the one that was suspicious enough to be caught up in a shady place like that, then you had the impending feeling that things weren’t going to be going as calmly as they were now. 

One thing was for certain, however, he was not ever going back there, not if there was anything you could do about it! 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

“Why don’tcha ever let them put your name in the credits?” Bendy asked, his legs no longer swinging on the edge of your bed. He wasn’t facing you, but his head tilted down, his voice low. 

You shifted, putting your book face down on the bed stand. You didn't realize it bothered him. What were you going to tell him- that someone might be looking for you because of a past you didn’t remember, and you really didn’t want the studio to suffer for that? It was already bad enough you were so paranoid you wouldn’t go to bars to get drinks with your coworkers because you were afraid of showing your ID.

“I’m just a volunteer, Bendy, if my name gets put on there, it makes me seem just as important as all the pros, and I’m definitely not.” It was a lie, but it wasn’t exactly far from the truth either, that was partly the case, you weren’t nearly as good as the other employees. 

He turned to look at you, surprise written all over his face. He was looking for the bluff, but you really did believe that. He clenched his fists. 

“What about my opinion?” He growled lowly, looking away. “Ya never ask’t me how I felt on the matter.” The accent, it wasn’t new, but it was heavy today. Maybe because it was heavier in the episode, and he liked it so much he started talking like that outside of the recording booth.

He slid off the side wordlessly after that, but to your surprise, he didn’t leave, instead he went around the foot of the bed and came back round so that he was standing at your side. He looked annoyed, his eyebrows scrunched and his smile faltering into a slight frown. 

Your hand raised to your forehead in surprise, holding over where he’d just flicked you. 

“I ‘tink you’re the most important person in the whole wide world.” He huffed, crossing his arms. His tone came out as ultimatum, unprotestable. He was putting his finger down, you fluttered your eyes in realization. Just when did he get so grown up and serious on you? “Now are we gonna go ‘ta bed, or what?” He crawled up, using your leg for support as his tail flickered, plopping himself in your lap. You were kind of putting off sleep, not really feeling capable of it, not after the events of today. 

It was still kind of shocking to you, the idea that one of your very own comics was getting turned into an episode, and you were in charge of directing it. That meant sitting next to Mr. Lawrence as if you knew the first thing about a good track when anything he made came out sounding fantastic, and spending a lot of time Mrs. Lambert, the director of the art department. You’d only ever dropped her off coffee, but never really worked beside her. Now they were asking you your vision for the angles and progression of the story, and that was oddly mystifying. You didn’t like all the attention, it gave you anxiety, which was why you were just a volunteer and not a real part of the operation. 

Bendy the dancing demon. He could twirl, he could hop, but people were going to learn that boy, could he sing. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

You were there as soon as you saw the light of day outside, so overkilling it to point that Bendy was slumped in the passenger seat and you didn’t have to worry about it because there wasn’t even a single car in the parking lot. But hey, you had a lot of things to get done, so you skipped breakfast and plucked him straight out of bed while he was still half asleep, not even bothering with the jar.

To think you had to get up early again, just so you could work on the comic first, before everyone else filled in and you got whisked away by one of them. That was most of the morning, him, knocked out in your arms, his head burrowed in your shoulder while his arms and legs curled around you, drawing away. The anxiety didn’t help with your work, and you found it to be a bit more stiff and sloppy than usual. Wally Franks shuffled on in, and you sent him a wave from your desk though he scowled at the sight of Bendy, but you didn’t hold it against him, he was probably just tired and unhappy to be here this early in the day. Unfortunately he needed to be, because with you preoccupied, you had less time to watch Bendy, who really was a little devil when you weren’t there to watch. Thomas Connor was clocking in extra hours too, though you worried about Alice, she wasn’t taking the news about Ms. Suzie too well. 

Speaking of Alice, she was skulking on the extra chair you’d brought in, just having told you her woes. She seemed lackluster, sad, what happened to Suzie still a fresh wound. You were glad she came to you though, and though Bendy was in the room too, she willingly came in, meaning she really needed someone to listen to her. 

It couldn’t be Boris, he wouldn’t be up until after noon. The wolf, just as was portrayed in the show, was a bit lazy, but that was alright since he was always a real sweetie. He never gave you any grief or made any messes, other than a tail wag one time which accidentally knocked some stuff off a shelf. You made sure to have a sandwich ready for him most days, but you were too busy to pack one today, and Bendy usually whined about it, saying something about how Boris didn’t really need to eat and that you shouldn’t be making him lunch. You disagreed, arguing the same thing for him. He grumbled, but didn’t voice his protests any further. 

You knew one thing you could do for her, Alice, but that meant she’d have to agree to keep a secret. You didn’t know if the angel could handle that, but seeing her so down in the dumps, you were going to offer anyways.

“Alice.” You looked up from your draft, startling her. You’d been quiet for a few moments, aside from her sniffles, so your voice surprised her. Bendy was going to hate you for your next words, his head snapping up as you said them. “Do you need a break from the studio?” 

. .


	4. And she was gonna get it!

“I’m fine Bendy, this time was really mild.” You glanced over at him briefly, who was brooding as he propped his chin on the window. Bendy’s eyes, they’d still been glassy, but he didn’t let you see-- he hid his face from you the entire car ride. Joey had told you to go home early, and that production for the most part was complete, reassuring you that if there was anything anyone needed from you, he’d oversee it personally. 

So you hopped in the car, the city skyline in the distance. The air had warmed since morning, and you could partially see the smog looming just over the city’s radius. Alice nearly went wild at the sight, watching one of those helicopter seeds that were fun to play with flutter to the ground.

“C’mon, you can bring it with you.” You smiled at her, but Bendy walked past with the cold shoulder, wordlessly getting into the car and shutting his door. You understood why he was upset, but you really didn’t want him to take it too hard. You knew you may have acted weirdly when you first woke up, you sort of hazily remembered him looking to Joey for reassurance, but you really were fine. 

Alice got the back seat, though Bendy sat up front with you. You briefly drew a hand away from the shift to rub his arm, but he stiffened, still adamant on giving you the cold shoulder. You frowned at his coldness, eyes still on the road. Instead he kept his glare on the rearview mirror, his dislike for her presence more apparent than anything. 

Alice, oblivious, liked the car, she decided. The way it swayed and rolled over little bumps. She found the noise to be calming, and folded her hands together, comfortable in her seatbelt. Bendy still refused to wear one, so you didn’t even bother trying. 

He lost in his thoughts, imagining the world full of swaying black lines. Just an ocean of seaweed on the side of the road, tethered to the ground. Anything would be better than what he was feeling right now. 

-

“I know how you feel about this.” You whispered, taking his hand. “But I’m okay, and Alice? She tries very hard to hide it, but she’s not feeling too good.” You rubbed over his knuckles, sliding a cup of coffee in front of him. “The least I can do is this. It’s just a day, Bendy.” 

He took a deflated swig from his cup, rubbing beneath his eyes. It was only just past noon, yet today already came with a wild rollercoaster of emotions, or maybe a twisted ride on the teacups cranked up from kiddy to neck snapper. It pretty much gave him whiplash. 

As if his emotions had anything to do with the weather outside, down came the pitter patter of a wimpy start to rain. It would probably storm, though the weather channel gave no warnings for one just a day ago. What good were those meteorologists if they couldn’t even do their job? Some small part of him hoped Boris was okay, though who was he kidding? He probably went straight back to bed. 

He jumped when he heard a thud on the window in front, and then turned to see Alice’s cheek screeching down it excitedly. “It’s raining!” She bounced up and down. She was so stupid and childish it was funny sometimes. He blinked and cracked a small smile, though froze when he saw you looking and switched it out for a blank stare. You only chuckled and got up from your spot on the other side of the table. 

He heard the brief clanking of dishes as you turned the sink on for a brief moment, muttering something about the tree roots. Your pipes were all new, but they had the potential to damage in the next few years if you didn’t do something to cut them back. Common problem, you could do that on a day it wasn’t raining- troubleshoot a solution before it did any damage. 

“I knew it.” His mug clanked against the tabletop, spilling a little bit of his coffee. He didn’t realize you snuck up on him, he thought you were still over at the sink. You snickered at his reaction, and spun around to grab him a paper towel before nearing again. “You care about her more than you let on.” He froze, heart sinking. He wanted to retort, but you grabbed him by the horn, gently tugging. 

He wanted to say something against the idea, but just took the napkin from your hand and wiped around his mug. Care?. He tried attacking her earlier, didn’t that mean anything to you? If anything, you should have realized it with the way your heads smacked together. 

That was probably the worst part of today, and it still made him wince. The memories were still all too heavy on his mind with the sting of regret. What Joey had said to him, how he, the man who liked to overwork his employees to the point they threatened to quit, let you go home early-- that was more of a statement than anything else. 

It was like everything had changed, at the drop of a hat, not just about you, but about him too. A few days ago, you were working on that strip, sketching up outfits and working on backgrounds. But for him, as he watched, it felt like bits of himself returning. His own patterns of speech, his mind, hell, he was even more cognizant somehow-- almost as if he were growing up again, here, in this world-- because being a toon, to him, was like being a recovering amnesiac.

Yet here you were, experiencing the opposite. With each passing day you were at risk of forgetting more and more, to the point he wondered when the last time you’d forgotten something was. You couldn’t exactly tell him, because it was you who forgot, but Joey had pulled him aside, and offered a brief few words that really made him wonder how you’d met him in the first place. 

“It used to be the three of us, but, after the accident.. It wasn’t just Henry..that I lost.” 

That meant you predated the ink machine, the experiments done, and most of the current studio crew. If that was so, then why didn’t anyone ever say anything? It all felt like some sort of story that everyone but him must’ve knew, and that was highly frustrating. Not to mention your apparent age difference seeing Joey was well into adulthood, and you seemed rather young. Well, Bendy himself wasn’t that old when it came to being in this world, but the ink machine had been around a lot longer than he had. 

He.. couldn’t exactly tell how old he was, again, a lot of it was like regaining more memories he didn’t even know he had. He’d already been through all of the comics or episodes that would ever be created, even if he was rediscovering that now-- so it’d be futile trying to make sense of his own timeline. 

...How lucky Alice was. She was even younger than him, she only knew happiness, and sadness, but she didn’t really notice any of the darker things at play that he was trying so hard to decipher. 

But he had one more question. Why did Joey care so much?

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

It seemed those grey clouds you vaguely remembered from last night had come back.

He came and joined you, his head tilting as his horns swiveled back in a unique kind of expression. It was almost beautiful, how along the depressions in the concrete of the driveway ran the collecting showers which veined into a system of streams, spilling into the street.

His hand rested on the ledge of the windowsill.. You stood on opposite sides, both peering out with some effort to see through the popcorned glass, warped from the trails of sliding droplets still drizzling with the sound of high pie tin snares. Attention back on him for a moment, you noted a distinct sheen to his wet skin, the same as the slickened asphalt out on the road, the scent of his ink and the moth bitten curtain you leaned against heavier, now that there was moisture in the air.

Now that you took a good look at him, you saw that his chest was vibrating. As if noticing your eyes on him, he took his resting hand and started tapping against the uncoordinated tizzy of those droplets outside. 

You’ve heard that beat somewhere before. It was quite recognizable, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Except, well, maybe you could. 

It wasn’t much more than barely audible wheezes, but he kept his attention to your reflection against the glass, the way you looked contemplative of something. You took a moment, before joining in on tapping, your fingers producing a slightly higher sound against the wood. Neither of you skipped a beat, and you closed your mouth, experimentally humming. 

He mouthed the words as the beginning of the melody started up, nodding his head to the tune, silently singing it along with you. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He could sing with more oomph than a whole ensemble of tissing snares and snazzy puffs of warm, bold brass, but that underrated ability of his backfired when he was angry, and had the pipes to voice it. 

He let rip a full fledged battle cry, one of the highest ear piercing screeches you’d ever heard. It didn’t last long, but it sure rang in your ears and maybe shattered something ceramic. Then, with little disregard for how horrible it would feel, he pushed off you like a springboard, flying back onto the floor. Oh no. Your office! 

...Scratch the office, that death glare of his was directed at none other than Alice!

More than directed, it was laced with intent! She ducked with a yelp as he flung his bowtie at her. Next to go were his gloves, thrown with such force that even though they were made of a flimsy cloth-like material, the resulting smack sounded nastier than it should have been. Then it was a pen scratch that too, a whole fistful of pens pulled out of a cup of them, thrown at her like darts!. “Bendy! Bendy stop!! Alice did nothing wrong!” 

That wasn’t gonna get through to him, he didn’t even so much as flinch at your words-- you were way past the point of reasoning. It was like you weren’t even there, just another obstacle for him to jump over-- literally jump over, and you knew full well he was capable of it. He seemed to know it too.

He wound his legs up in a coil, building up tension like a winding jackinthebox, planning to dolphin dive right over your head. Right now, you were up against a nearly unstoppable force, the odds against you. You knew somebody was going to get hurt, it was just a question of who. 

In a flash he shot up, his rubbery body stretching like spandex. As fast as you could manage, you jumped up, sacrificing yourself so that Alice had enough time to run. Speaking of Alice, a single streak of black fell in that moment, her face scrunched with such fury he blinked mid-air.

-

You knew it was Joey by the signature three-tap knock he had, and glanced up from your work, ignoring the slight soreness of your forehead. “Hello, Mr. Drew. Have something you need me to do?” You inquired politely, before noticing the shy angel hiding behind him. 

You winced. You wouldn’t be able to save him from this one, he’d done his part to deserve it. He got up wordlessly, and walked out glaring daggers at the angel hiding behind Mr. Drew for protection. Mr. Drew sent a curt nod to you, motioning for Alice to wait with you while Bendy got his scolding. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

When he finally did wake, it was a disaster. 

For one, his hands flew away from you once he saw you were awake, then he hit his head on the headboard trying to scramble away. Holding the back of it he flinched, mouth twitching as he said nothing. You, both spooked by his sudden reaction and worried about if he was hurt, neared without any caution. He could have killed you in your sleep, but he didn’t so you took the cuddling as an okay, that he’d finally calmed down. 

Yesterday he attacked you at first sight, but he was probably just scared from whatever had happened to get him into the market in the first place. The market of the city wasn’t a place that everyday folk just got into. This was New York.. and, well, you had a feeling you’d left something more than just a reputation there. 

...There. In the tower. Brand new, art deco, black and plated in gold. If only you could remember everything, you would know what you were missing, but you could only recall it belonging to a few.. Underground organizations. Those cravings, for the return of your memories, and your secrets, they were constantly getting in your way. You wanted it all back, badly, but as Joey said, it was probably for the better that you didn’t remember, or force yourself to. 

You did remember something else, though. A lot of interesting things came out of the New York sewers. Those people, a lot of them were the kind that constructed their towers with reinforced bessemer, they made empires and had umpires. They’d do anything in the name of their corrupt aspirations. 

You. You were nothing like them, you swore it. You just couldn’t be, you dedicated your time to Joey. You loved and cared for the studio without asking for a single thing. You were not a greedy person, you strove to prove it. 

You weren’t a monster, not one of them. 

Monsters.. some of them, quite literally. The things that science did not quite yet understand, it attracted a lot of people. It attracted them to creatures, to experiments on themselves and amalgams commissioned.. For a price. 

You were paying the price for something you did, because you didn’t remember the trade-off. Memories, they were valuable things, even more valuable in the hands of someone who could use them. 

..That day. The day of the incident. 

But Bendy. You knew that the things sold in that market, most of them were not truly monsters, they were captured, and afraid. They were victims. Bendy.. Bendy could have almost ended up in the hands of someone else. He was yours, protected under your roof, your blessed sanctuary. He was safe in its wards, they’d probably remained intact, even if the ground had shifted to the whim of rooting trees and the house had weathered in the wake of however many seasons it had been left to. 

Even if you barely believed in that kind of stuff, it was hard to deny it was real, seeing what you had seen. Joey, he’d shown you the book. It was him who insisted you go home and do the ritual, so that he could sleep soundly knowing that no other incident could occur. 

“Bendy.” You raised your hands, hovering them just above his chest. You could feel the heat radiating off of it as he took fast, terrified breaths. He possibly had not remembered as he woke that he was out of his cell, and it very well could have spooked him once he realized where he was. 

His mouth made movements, mouthing, mimicking words that you could not understand. You froze, realizing he was trying to speak, and then further concluding that he had, in fact, lost his voice. 

You couldn’t help it, your eyes teared up. He was, well he was Bendiduous. He was much more than just his ability to tapdance or twirl in ballet, he was a singer, your favorite singer, even if it was hard to say that knowing it’d hurt Alice Angel’s feelings. 

He knew how you felt about it back then, even if you couldn’t outwardly express it in words. You said it in the way you’d make his coffee extra sweet, or fed him a hefty dinner as a reward for his great work in the booth. You’d hold his hand and rub his knuckles, leaving an extra vase of flowers around on the kitchen table, sharing a nice meal with him. At that point, it was denial to say there wasn’t at least a little something there, when you treated him like a person, and not a kid, or a toon. You almost had him fooled. 

Maybe more than almost. 

You couldn’t say anything, not even an apology. He was the one that literally couldn’t speak, and yet you couldn’t offer any comforting words. If only you knew what happened, how you’d got there, why you were brought here, in this time that you were unfamiliar with. 

But for him, bound to silence in his inability to speak, he was staring back at someone who was supposed to be dead by his hands. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

“Listen lady, my clients have full confidentiality.” The man tipped his hat, chewing the end of his wooden pipe. He’d been swimming in credits for the sale of that ink monster that had been accrued through ‘fair’ methods of trade, though he was surprised the buyer didn’t ask him to juice up the abomination of a creature before going and meeting their new pet. Whatever happened after was none of his business, it was no longer his property once it was out of the market. 

However, she just didn’t quit. “I don’t care, you crooked sewer ornament! Give me your sales record, or tell me who purchased the demon!” She stomped her heel like a spoiled brat. Honestly, he hated those kinds of women. They should have just stayed accessories for their husbands and stayed at home in their pretty little mansions with all their make-up and pearls. 

“Now listen here little miss. I don’t take no demands from no women. Go get your man and leave the business to the boys if you wanna make an appointment.” He popped the ‘t’, pointing the end of his pipe at her. Oh, he didn’t know who he was talking to. 

She didn’t care who paid the better price, she had her eyes on that demon.. Call it personal, but she was going to get what she wanted. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

It wasn’t quite time yet that people would start filing in, but there was one person who always liked to arrive way before hours. 

Walking in with a whistle and a cup of coffee, he’d of course been happy to treat himself in the wake of perhaps one of his biggest reveals yet: Your comic, fully animated, and released for the fans to watch with the expectation to up his profit more than double that of the original paper print! Why, with the success of that strip, he was near certain the paychecks were going to be coming in gold plated at this rate!

Yet his perfect successful morning was ruined the moment he opened that door. Just had to be too good to be true, didn’t it? 

Boris stood right at the other side of the hall. Usually he’d be scolded for going near the door, but today was a special circumstance. Tucked under one arm, a flailing little devil, squirming and grumbling stand-ins for curse words, but in the other? 

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” He shut the door behind him. 

-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`- -`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

“Oh, Mr. Fain! Good morning!” You looked up when you heard a knock on the door. You hardly ever saw Mr. Fain, since his office was somewhere on one of the lower floors of the studio instead of with the rest of the music department, but it wasn’t like you didn’t like him, in fact, you were a real fan of his work. He just wasn’t one for talk. 

“Likewise.” He nodded curtly, though waved his hand when you went to stand up. “No need for that, I’m actually here for him.” He pointed a thumb from where he leaned against the doorframe. Bendy’s head shot up as he sat up from his place on the floor. At this point the wood was tinted just a little darker right where he liked to sit just beside your desk. He could always use a chair if he wanted, but he claimed the floor was more comfortable.

“Sammy said he didn’t want you in for this part.” He didn’t? Bendy sent him a glare which basically told him to forget about it, so he scrambled to elaborate. “Wait, hold on now! Ya see, we’re actually working on the big solo! Yeah! And I think he actually wants it to be a surprise-” He rambled, before slapping his forehead. “I said nothing, you got that? ‘S why we need him in the recording booth.” 

Well then, you didn’t feel so bad if that was the case. Everyone always complained that Mr. Lawrence wasn’t a nice guy, but you didn’t know what they were talking about! Sure, he was dismissive when he was tired, and required a fair amount of alone time, but he wasn’t inherently rude. Aside from that, you wondered if Ms. Campbell’s absence got to him a little. He’d seemed a little down in the past few days, just like Alice. You were yet to meet Ms. Allison Pendle, but you were sure she was a sweet girl, even if you were going to miss Ms. Campbell. 

Joey was a good person, but sometimes he had to make sacrifices that you didn’t completely understand. You did your best to remember that, so that you didn’t feel any sort of ill will or resentment after one of those choices had come to be. They usually ended up well in the end, so you were just going to have to trust his artistic vision. 

“Actually, one thing though, where were ya yesterday? He didn’t come out once while you were gone, it was actually kind of surprising.” 

“Oh, uh,” You sent Bendy a glance. “I called in sick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain to write. I actually completely revamped it, and a lot of content ended up getting cut since it didn't work for the story. There goes about 4K words of work.
> 
> Now I've been feeling really insecure about my writing ability lately, and I think that reflects in how poor the quality is, especially of this chapter. (Also my life is a living hell but that's another story) 
> 
> I'm really itching to write some oneshots and take a break from the book, but I hate to be noncommittal.
> 
> I had a few Sammy Lawrence oneshot ideas, things from you being an unrealized artist because growing up you were discouraged from it and he sees some potential in you- to camp councilors working together- and to an internship at the studio, of which I kind of have an entire story idea for but might not write (and just let be a oneshot)
> 
> Edit: 1st week milestone-- the series already has over 20K words published! Let's keep it up! (I write every day though I have constant writers block!)


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